Forsaken
by mandrake-o
Summary: Lucius gets out of Azkaban. Draco gets tortured hooRAY. But not a good thing actually, since he's become some sort of walking zombie whose only hope is Harry Potter... great. Mostly from Blaise's P.O.V. [minor slash] Not HBP compliant.
1. Genesis

Forsaken

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own anything.

Note: This is the revised for OotP version of a story I started a long time ago, got no reviews for and couldn't remember where I was going in the first place. But, a week ago, while I was looking for some plastic sleeves for my HSC notes, I discovered the plan.

Chapter 1: Genesis

I sat with my friend Blaise in a corner of the room. We were surrounded by children from about five to eighteen. Every single one of us was the son or daughter of a Death Eater. When you're a Death Eater, you're a liability, so, to make you less of a liability, they take at least one family member, lock them up and torture them to make you behave. I'm one of them. It's not so bad here, at least, it wasn't last year, but every now and then, you're taken out of the room and given the cruciatus. I'm lucky, it only happened to me twice last year. But I guess to some people, twice in one summer break is a lot. The trouble is, we just got here today after school. And I know that what happens to me today isn't going to be pretty. My dad, stupid fellow that he is, managed to let Potter, POTTER of all people, outsmart him and wound up in Azkaban. The problem is, Voldemort, against his better wishes, relies too much on my father to leave him to rot there forever. I know that my father is going to get out, and when he gets out, I'm not going to like it.

For most of us, this is our second time here. It's only me and a couple a few years older than me that have been here more than that. I don't remember coming here the first time, I was only a baby. I don't know what mum thought about it when she was here before me. The adults are kept in a different room. Some wives, husbands, brothers and sisters. There aren't as many of them as there are of us. Makes you wonder when these people had time to have all these children.

The door opens. It's a Death Eater with his/her mask up. It must be my time.

"Avery," he calls. Not me.

Timothy Avery gets up from where he's been sitting with his friends. He's only seven, one of the youngest here. He's been called seven times already. Poor kid. Makes you wonder what awful parents he's got. Or maybe the Dark Lord just doesn't like him or them. Are they awful in the way that they just can't help but screw up? Or awful in that they don't give a damn about him? I can't see the Death Eater's face as he leaves, but I know he is smirking at me, telling me that I'm going to have to wait, and when I'm least expecting it, I'm going to get called.

"Draco," Blaise says to me.

"Yeah?" I reply.

"Do you think we'll ever get out of this hell hole?"

"At the end of summer, yeah," I said. "I feel sorry for the adults. Although they do get time out and we don't."

"It's partially their fault that they're in this. It's not our fault."

I stopped paying attention to Blaise, instead studying the dirt beneath my fingernails. I was preoccupied, to tell you the truth.

"The stupidity of fathers, and we have to suffer for it," Blaise said, catching my attention as he finished his rant.

"Scissors, paper, rock?" I suggested. Yes, I know, boring muggle game. But they do confiscate wands and anything they wouldn't let you bring into Buckingham Palace. Actually, everything except clothes. Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle and I have yet to sink so far as to play something so degrading as 'Chinkle Winkle'. There isn't that much you can do here.

He shrugged and we played it silently for a few minutes. Crabbe and Goyle decided to join in for a while. Their problem is they're too stupid to comprehend the subtleties of the nature of playing the game softly. One of the main benefits of playing quietly is that particularly annoying people like Terrence Higgs won't start throwing socks at you. I hope he gets them confiscated. I think he's mainly held a grudge against me because I got to be Slytherin seeker and kicked him out of the position. Is it my fault that I'm a better seeker than he is? Although, no one else would agree with me. I don't know why Flint put up with me; oh yeah, it's because dad bought him a broom. Actually, he even bought Higgs a broom... not that he could use it for anything. I screwed his Quidditch career.  
  
A/N:  
For those of you who don't know (that would be 99.99999 of you) what Chinkle Winkle is. It's this game which can be modified but consists of a short clapping game where you sing 'I'm thinking, you're thinking. Can we do the same? 1, 2, 3, it's the Chinkle Winkle game.' Basically, you have three things each or three actions and you each pick one and see if you can get the same one. I got it off a Hi-5 episode I watched once upon a time. Speaking of Hi-5, is anyone else disappointed that the long-awaited series six of Hi-5 is actually carefully disguised re-runs with a new theme song? I know, I know, we're not supposed to be old enough to remember.


	2. Cruciate

Forsaken

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own anything.

Chapter 2: Cruciate

The door opens.

"Malfoy."

I look up, the shock evident on my face. I'd given up on being called. And, I guess, that's why I should have been expecting it. The other kids in the room were all wearing the same expression. I think they've forgotten that my father is eventually going to get out.

"Malfoy," the Death Eater repeats, looking directly at me. It's hard not to miss me. My father and I could be clones.

I still haven't moved and the Death Eater's starting to get tired of waiting. I know it but I still can't budge an inch. It's as though I'm under the full body bind, but it's one I've cast myself.

The Death Eater's wand was in his hand, and I still couldn't throw off the curse. It's upsetting. I can't figure out if it's the shock of the fear that's doing it.

Finally, someone breaks out of the trance and throws a sock at me. Higgs. I can move now. Perhaps it was Higgs who cast the body bind on me.

What am I? A raving loony? He can't do that. That's the nervousness getting to me. I can't say Higgs has never done anything good for me any more.

Smoke fills the room and I can tell it's because the Death Eater's toasted Higgs' socks. That's better than confiscated. I can just imagine later when we go back to Hogwarts him not having any socks. I smirk to myself as I join the DE at the door before he casts something on me. Usually it's a sneak peek at the cruciatus to come. Or if you're Avery, just an imperio.

It's just the imperius curse. I guess he just doesn't want to have to deal with me freezing up again like in the room.

I follow the Death Eater down corridors I'd half forgotten about. This certainly wasn't going to be a reunion with my father that I was going to enjoy.

As we drew nearer, vivid memories I couldn't suppress came crawling back into my mind. The Cruciatus Curse. It's like being on fire on the inside, a burning crawling through your veins, killing you with every pump of your heart. But it's worse than that because it's like every joint is bending back the wrong way and every bone is slowly breaking. There are small biting insects running through cuts only you can see and feel. It's like your skin's been flipped inside out and needles have been scraped along the bloody surface of your mangled flesh. And you can't breathe. Your body freezes, like I'd just experienced, so it's too much to ask for you to be able to inhale, exhale. How you're even alive afterwards is a mystery.

The previous two times I'd been down here, it had been especially bad. There are a few reasons why. One is because there was so much time between the two that I forget how bad it is before each time. But the others say it's something you can never get used to and seems to get worse and worse every time.

The second reason is because my father is one of the top Death Eaters there are, so Voldemort himself casts it on me. For the others, some lower ranking DE usually does it. Sometimes the Dark Lord isn't even present. When my father screws up, he screws up royally. Being part of the inner circle means that he's ruined a plan that's come from Lord Voldemort himself.

Don't ever let it be said that Voldemort's power lies in his ability to control people. That's not where it all comes from. He's Slytherin's heir, making him very, very powerful indeed. And he's clever. It's a very dangerous combination. Take Potter for example. He's got great power, but he's an idiot. I'd bet he doesn't even realise just how powerful he is. The air around him resonates with magic wherever he goes. And Dumbledore's got brains, but not so much power. It's his brain that does all that. He's so good he even has the illusion of power.

Reason number three for why torture's especially bad for me is because Lucius is a Malfoy. He's been taught how to hide emotions. Voldemort keeps the cruciatus going for ages and ages, just to get a reaction from him. Usually Voldemort just realises he's got better things to do and punishes Lucius in some other way. I don't know what that is, though I'm sure it includes mother.

Sometimes I don't think father cares. But Lucius knows how the cruciatus works. He knows it's nothing physical and it's nothing that'll kill me. Cruciatus is a mind thing. It won't kill you because, like a good torturer, it knows how far it can go. But it can drive you insane if the caster is overenthusiastic.

We're here.

I'm told to stand in the middle of the floor. I do, eyes and face revealing nothing. I am cursing myself for letting the lowly DE see my surprise when he entered the room to collect me. I stand with my hands clasped together behind my back. Voldemort is right in front of me and he laughs as he looks at me. Funny, I don't feel a tremor of his magic, I usually do when this close.

"At ease, soldier," he says mockingly. Confusion would have been written upon my face at this point, but my guards were up now. "Bring Lucius in." He waves his hand and the doors open.

In comes my father, escorted by two of the lower DEs. He looks like he's seen better days. Still, he maintains the Malfoy air and I am encouraged to keep my façade. Sometimes I really wish we were back in the old days when Voldemort was gone. Sure, mudbloods were multiplying, but back then, my father was a dad. Stupid Wormtail.

"Come, Lucius. Sit." A chair is conjured and Lucius sits. He has a fine view of what's to come.

"_Crucio_!"

The effect is immediate. Fire. Ants. Knives. Needles. It's like someone's plucking out my eyes and shoving them back in again.

Claws are ripping me apart, pulling out my insides.

My nose burns and I refuse to let it run.

Tears try to force their way out of my eyes.

I'm shaking but refuse to give up and sprawl ungainly on the floor. What would father say?

It feels like I've been dumped in a pot of boiling oil.

No, that's not it.

My skin is boiling.

Something sharp is poked down my throat and turned and spun, forever disturbing my insides.

I try to throw up but something stops me, forcing me to taste the chyme before shoving it back down my throat, burning on the way back to my stomach.

The burning stops and is replaced by freezing.

First my toes, and I can't bend down to rub them.

Then I can't feel them.

This is good. A slow death but one that won't hurt so much.

I look down and see blood covering my feet. Large nails are sticking out and the blood keeps pouring.

Now I have to resist the urge to let the liquid in my bladder out.

Do I care what father says? After all, he's the one that got me into this mess.

The stuff in my arse is deciding it wants to come out, too. Definitely not a pretty sight.

The wrong stuff wants in. The wrong stuff wants out.

And then the fire's back, shooting up my spinal column. It's worse because I'd just gotten used to the numbness.

Screw you, father! I don't bloody care.

The tears come now. I've wet myself and regurgitated on the stone floor of the dungeon.

It hurts.

I let out a scream and feel no more.


	3. Shift

Forsaken

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own anything.

Chapter 3: Shift

They've just brought Draco back in. He looks different somehow. I guess it's because he's actually got this shocked expression on his face. But there's something in his eyes that he's lost. He walks over to us, like a zombie. The Death Eaters take a look around and then leave.

He sits.

"How was it Draco?" I ask. He'd been gone hours. I was worried.

He looks at me, still completely lost and I realise that he is lost. And that's what's missing from his eyes.

"Fuck!" I swear and Crabbe and Goyle look over. They still don't suspect anything. Stupid louts.

"What is it, Blaise?" Crabbe asks.

I wonder if it's possible to explain to them. "They've done it too long." I stare at Draco. "He's gone."

"Gone?" Goyle asks, like a child asking where her dead mummy is.

"Gone away. His mind's gone away. Where nothing can hurt him."

Crabbe and Goyle are complete idiots.

"Draco's gone," I mutter.

"Are you serious?" Higgs asks. He's the one of us who likes Draco the least, but even he sounded concerned.

"Just look at him!" I shout. "You can see it in his eyes."

"You can never see anything in his eyes," Higgs objects.

"Just look!" It's a command. Higgs looks. What he sees there shocks him.

"There's nothing in his eyes. There was never anything but there was never nothing. There was always something in his eyes," he babbles.

He's taking it worse than I am.

I watch as Draco drags a finger through the dirt, tracing a letter.

"Potter," I state. An epiphany has come to me.

"What?" Higgs stops babbling long enough to ask.

"We'll get Potter. If Potter can't fix him we'll give Potter to the Dark Lord and he'll fix him."

Higgs looked at me a little oddly. "Potter?"

"Potter," Draco repeats.

I am confused momentarily then ignore him. He'll probably just continue repeating our words. Draco is gone. And if Draco is gone, that means I'm in charge. And if I'm in charge, well, I can't let emotions get in the way. Otherwise, the whole group falls apart.

"Potter would be the only one strong enough to be able to help Draco in any way. Granted, no one knows how to cure the insanity caused by the cruciatus, but we'd certainly need someone powerful. Look at Longbottom's parents. They've been in St Mungos since the last war thanks to the Lestranges and nothing good's come of it."

Parkinson chose that moment to wake from her mid-afternoon siesta – or what we thought was mid-afternoon.

"What's this?" She asks, rubbing her eyes. "What's going on?" She stares. "Is there something wrong with Draco?"

I turn to look at her. "Draco's gone. That's just some sort of zombie Draco shell."

"What?" She scuttled over to where Draco was sitting, still drawing in the dust. "Are you alright Draco?" she asked.

I rolled my eyes. Higgs threw a sock. "He's not going to answer you," he said.

"Potter," Draco said.

"He did just then," Pansy retorted.

"Parkinson, you lout. That's not a reply. He's just saying that."

"Believe what you want, Zabini," she glared. "And I'll believe what I want."

I shifted, ignoring her. "As I was saying, there's one thing that will definitely not help. And that's violence or conflict of any sort. Can we all please try to get along? For Draco's sake."

"We can try," Millicent said. "But knowing this lot, there's no guarantee."

"I just want you guys to try."

I could see Higgs mimicking me out of the corner of my eye. "I know I sound absolutely pathetic, but it's Draco. We like Draco."

"And Slytherins stick together," Nott added.

"I'm not a Slytherin," Avery stated.

"But you probably will be," I said.

"Hey," one of the Hufflepuffs in the corner said. "We aren't Slytherins either."

"Alright, alright. So we're not all Slytherins. So what? We're all sharing this experience. We're all Death Eaters' children. We are a group, and hopefully when the time comes, a team."

"Let's be the DEC," Parkinson suggested.

"DEC?" I questioned.

"Or Dec, if you want it that way. The Death Eaters' Children."

"Not such a bad idea," I agreed. "Anyone opposing?"

Higgs looked about ready to open his mouth. "Besides Terrence?"

No one said anything. "Okay. From now on, we're the Dec. And don't you dare tell anyone what that stands for. The rules. We don't tell anyone anything. Anything said in this room does not leave this room until we do. Everything stays just between us. I don't want anyone involved in this. Not your parents, not Snape. None of the teachers at school, not even Dumbledore. No one. Not a single one of your friends outside this room. And I'm looking at you, Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors when I say this. Not a soul."

The Gryffindor Patil looked at me. "I think we all get that, Zabini." Her sister glared on her behalf. And I was faced with a double-Patil stare.

I glared back.

"Potter," Draco broke the silence and everyone went back to doing what they were doing before Draco came in. That is, absolutely nothing. Draco rocked back and forth on his heels. "Potter," he repeated again, while dragging his finger through the dirt.

It really was sad that someone as witty and intelligent as Draco could be reduced to a babbling mass of airheaded-ness. Not to mention he was muttering his most hated enemy's name over and over again. Slytherin house breeds loyalty and the Dec showed that, even if not all of them were Slytherins. When it came down to it. If it was Draco against Voldemort, it was all of us against Voldemort, no questions asked.


	4. Scheme

Forsaken

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own anything.

Chapter 4: Scheme

It's been a week since Draco first got like that. So far he's only got three words in his vocabulary. "Potter", "Lucius", and "Voldemort". His three biggest enemies. Well, two biggest enemies, and the love of his life. I've always suspected that there was more to the Malfoy/Potter relationship than just hatred. Seriously, Draco's always had this obsession with Potter since first year. Crabbe says it started before they even got on the train. Your obsession can't be your enemy if half the things you say about him are complimentary.

There's a knock

"Kneel!" the entering Death Eater barks.

This can't be good. I take a knee and bow my head, trying to remain inconspicuous. I hear footsteps and know it's Lord Voldemort. He has a weird sort of shuffle walk.

"Look at me." The voice chills me and I take care to wipe disgust from my face before looking up. I notice that Draco's sitting on the floor. Voldemort locks his gaze with each of us, ignoring Draco, before speaking. "The school year will be beginning next week."

I never realised. Time stops in this place. We don't have any windows so we can't really tell what's morning and what's night, especially when they forget to feed us.

"Those of you who attend Hogwarts will be attending. I want Harry Potter by the end of the school year."

"Potter, Potter, Potter, Harry Potter, Potter, Potter." Draco's added a new word to his meagre vocabulary.

Voldemort sneers at Draco. "You've all seen what happened to young Master Malfoy. See that it doesn't happen to you." With that, he turns and leaves the room.

"I see you've learnt a new word, Draco," Higgs commented. He must be softening. I don't think he's ever called Draco "Draco" in his life.

Draco nodded and smiled. "Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry."

"I don't get it," Goyle proclaimed.

"Of course you don't," I said, exasperated. Seriously, it's a given that he won't understand.

"He understands us, but he only says Potter's name."

"You know," Millicent said. "If school starts next week, we get to go home this weekend."

"Yeah," I said, remembering being told by my father.

"Poor Draco." It was the first time one of us had expressed sympathy for him. I knew we were all feeling it. We were all feeling a little lost without him. He may not have been mentally there when we became the Dec, but he was still an important part of it.

The door opened once more. "Avery."

He squealed. I stare at little Timothy, like everyone else. They should just kills his father and let Tim and his mum go. He didn't ask to be born into this. None of us did. I can't wait until I become a proper Death Eater; at least then I won't have to suffer through this.

"Be nice to Tim when he gets back," I said.

As usual, Higgs has a sarcastic retort to make. "We're _Slytherins_. We're not nice."

It's my fault, really. Of course they were going to be nice to Tim when he got back. "We're not just Slytherins. We're the Dec."

"I never agreed to that, you know," he says, looking me in the eye.

"I know. It doesn't change that that's who we are, though."

Millicent has been drawing in the dust with Draco. "What are we going to do about him, Blaise?" she asks.

"I don't know. Voldemort isn't going to let us take him to school, you know."

"What?" Parkinson shrieks. "He has to go. We can't leave him here."

"No," I said. "We can't."

I know Higgs wants to be a smart arse and ask why. I just want to hit him. I want to punch him so hard that he becomes like Draco. Like Draco, because then he'll understand.

But I can't punch him, if only for Draco's sake. Attacking someone sure isn't the way to convince someone who's afraid that it's okay to come out and play.

"Higgs, please," I plead.

"Alright, alright."

"The way I see it," I say. "Is that if we can get Draco back to a basic level of functioning then there's no problem. Voldemort would only want Draco to stay if it looks like his cover is going to be blown. He can't have Dumbledore know that he's holding all of us hostage or else we'd never be able to leave the school grounds.

"So if we can get it to look like Draco's just upset that his father was in Azkaban, no one will suspect anything. And we can take Draco with us."

Parkinson nods. "Well, he can say Harry Potter, Lucius and Voldemort. And like Greg said, he understands what we're saying. All we need to do is get him to stop saying Voldemort, and to say or nod yes and no."

"What about classes when we get there?" Millicent asked.

"I'm sure we could manage it somehow. If the teachers think he's been through some sort of trauma, then they'll be kinder toward him."

"We should tell Professor Snape," Higgs said, the first thing designed to help not hinder.

"Thank you Higgs," I say, not really to him. "But I don't know how we're going to get to do that before we get to school."

I lay back on the ground. Draco, Draco, Draco… what are we going to do?


	5. Optimism

Forsaken

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own anything.

Chapter 5: Optimism

It's been two days since Voldemort told us we were going to go back to Hogwarts next week. We haven't figured out a way to get to Snape without anyone thinking us suspicious. So far we've worked out that it's got to be Danica that does the talking. She's Snape's niece. We've thought about injuring ourselves to get us some potions but realise that we'd have to be pretty injured for any Death Eater to even look at us. Not to mention they'd probably just get one of the mums to come in. If we needed a potion, well, it would probably be a stock potion. 

Basically, we were stuck. Stuck, stuck, stuck. Stuck with a capital S.

On the good side, Draco had managed to conjure up a "Yes" after hours of Pansy nodding her head and repeating the word over and over again.

Sadly, we can't seem to get him to shut up about Voldemort or Potter.

We were all mentally exhausted and tired of trying. It was a good thing that at this point, Snape came into the room. We all looked terribly surprised to see him.

He walked straight over to Draco and examined him for a moment. He seemed satisfied, then turning to me he said, "Zabini, we're taking him to Hogwarts."

I just look at him confused. "We were planning on it. But how?"

He lifts a vial from his pocket. "Come here, Nott," he says, as he turns to Draco and plucks a hair gently from his head. Draco made no indication that he was in any kind of pain. I would swear that Snape looked a little put out, but that would be an insult to our dear Potions teacher. Slytherins are all supposed to be brilliant at schooling their emotions. Meaning that at the moment Draco was being a pretty good Slytherin. That had to have hurt.

Nott comes toward us. "Drink this," Snape says to him. "Then do the best Draco Malfoy impression you can. I'll take it to the Dark Lord, and he can come to Hogwarts."

I stare. "Why would you want Nott to do it?"

"Because in case you haven't noticed Zabini," Snape scowls. "He does the best Malfoy impression of the lot of you."

I watch as he drinks the potion and is transformed into Malfoy. I have to admit, as I watch him answer Snape's questions, that it's almost as though Draco's come back with us. Snape stops recording long before Nott begins to change back. The real Draco doesn't seem at all interested in the fact that he has a double. If Draco were behaving normally he'd be furious and pointing out the faults in the fake one.

I sigh. I miss Draco. As though aware, Draco turns to me and a smile almost tugs at his lips. Higgs throws a sock. I have no idea where he gets them from. I swear I buried the last one. And a Death Eater incinerated the first. He must be stealing them.

0

The weekend arrives, and we're all lined up in age order. We've all tried to spiff ourselves up a bit. Amazingly, Higgs has managed two socks, though I suspect he's just taken them from his trunk though we aren't supposed to. I'd dob him in, but they're just socks. Though my more sadistic side really, really wants me to say something to teach him not to throw socks. I'll just wait 'til we get to Hogwarts and he's unprepared. Not to mention I'll have my wand then. 

Rodolphus Lestrange scanned the line, staring intently at Draco before deciding he was okay and moving on. I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding. A cliché, I know, but hey, I worry about Draco. I think you may have noticed.

Finally, the Death Eater who was watching the gate nodded his head, a clear indication that we can all walk through. We do, and there are several carriages waiting outside, carriages that each belong to the families of the children returning home. To homes that would be void of adults. Voldemort might let the children out for a week to recover and prepare for school to avoid blowing his cover, but the parents would have to stay and do his bidding.

I find the familiar carriage with my family's crest emblazoned on the door. I get in, and peer out the window as my driver waits for his turn to depart from the headquarters. I see Snape taking Draco away, helping him into a carriage. Draco's bound for Hogwarts where Snape will help him. But all of a sudden I can't let Snape take him. I can't let him take him to Hogwarts. To be there before Dumbledore's scrutinizing gaze. I clamber out of my carriage and stalk toward the one Snape has just entered. I knock on the door impatiently.

"Professor," I say worriedly, when he opens the window to speak to me. "Let me take care of Draco, please."

He looks at me. His eyes pierce through me, evaluating. Finally he consents with a nod. "I suppose being with a friend might help him more."

"Thank you Professor," I say, as Snape helps Draco out of the carriage. He's momentarily confused before he fixes his gaze on me.

"Blaise," he says, and I almost fall over in response. He's remembered my name.

Snape gives me something like an approving nod, though he isn't one to show any emotion besides anger. "I think it will help."

And I get into my carriage with Draco.

­0

The week passes tiresomely. I cannot bear to see Draco like that. So exposed. So vulnerable. He was the best of all of us. And now he doesn't know who he is, let alone who anyone else is. So when I cannot bear it anymore and feel as though my own mask will evaporate, I head to Diagon Alley by myself, leaving Draco with only the house elves for company.

I just intend to purchase Draco's and my school supplies. I don't intend to take long. Normally I order everything, but this time I just want to get away from Draco. If only for a moment. So I can pretend that everything is normal. That Draco is at home in his own house, tormenting his house elves as he does. But every time I ask for two of something, I am reminded. Draco's not Draco anymore.

It pains me when I see the Gryffindor trio and their extras laughing as they walk down the alley. I have everything I need now, but I cannot help but watch them. They are so carefree. Well, I amend as I take a closer look at Potter's face, most of them are. There is something lonely in his gaze. Heartbroken. It's the face I know I'd see if I let down my mask for a second when I stared at myself in the mirror. I never thought I'd share anything in common with Potter.

It makes me want to speak with him. To tell him. As they walk past, completely ignoring me as always, I can feel the dim crackle of power following them. It makes me want to tell him everything. I know he'd understand. But, I note, looking at the faces accompanying me, they wouldn't. So I can't speak to him now. It will have to wait until Hogwarts. I hope Draco has that long.

0

A/N: Been a long time, hasn't it? But I just reread this story and I love it. I don't care if you don't love it, but I do. I shall take pride in my work. But if you actually like this story, the fact that I love it means that it'll be updated more frequently from now on. Hooray for you.


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